Sunday, September 11, 2005

10/5/6 AM
Hungover. Paused there because I was going to say “actually” hungover, which I should have but I stopped because I feel I’ve been using the word too much. Actually, that’s the word. Fuck. I’m glad (yes, I paused and almost wrote “actually”). I’m glad I’m hungover, it’s motivation to stop this binge. I need to get in shape and last night was a setback. I was scheduled to work out and didn’t. I’m scheduled to run today and need to slip away and not smoke in the morning.
Vicious fishes – thought in a car
Sublime fall – thought getting on the boat.
The fall from my manic high is coinciding with this uncertainty at work. I will need to keep my wits about me. It bothers me that this is interfering with the story. Training gives me something else to think, write, do. The job now will occupy more thought and time. And, the usual course down from a high leads me to a mood where I don’t write. I could counter that now and try to use the Lamictal to my advantage. I wasn’t writing really on the evening ferry, unless you count the poetry scrawl.
What about printing the book myself and including scrawled poems, adapted to fit the storyline, but the actual scrawl – kind of like those Griffin and Sabine books except from a guy on the run. Poems and shit sent back to Soo that Billy can’t send. The political scrawl.
The sublime fall
Traces of brown
Seeping into the green
Crisp is cliché, sublime cliché
But there’s no other way
Brilliant blues and scarlet hues
Sky, water, and clouds converge
Whispering another season’s dirge
Don’t fear the reaper summer was a time to reap
(I gotta have more cowbell!)
Wishing this descent is less steep
Than when I fell before
My own hell
Ignore, abhor, snore, Thor,
My core
Only confirms my belief
This natural cycle
This turning leaf
Is no passing trifle
For me
But selfish indulgence
Falling into darkness
Must be
Not in abundance
My weakness
I see
Is this seasonal change
I adjust now, I rearrange
It is what it is, I can’t fear the fall
In varying degrees it happens to all
The light’s now slanting
Though it shines still
My silent ranting
Is an act of will
To work I go
This quiet struggle
They’ll never know
Brightness fades, cold winds blow
Darker shades, quick to slow
I hear the call
I cannot stall
My sublime fall

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